Posts from — April 2003

And now for a popular opinion. I hate going to the dentist.

I hate going to the dentist so much, I never go. I mean, I just don’t go. Screw that. Unfortunately, certain habits seem to run counter to my dentist avoidance plans.

As a kid, I was a regular at the dentist’s office. I could practically fill my own cavities by the time I was eleven, which unfortunately for me, was the year I got hit by a car for the first time (two incidents total, and counting) and learned the joys of root canal. So you see, I have accumulated some serious chair time at the ole’ DDS’ house.

I hate them, natch.

Now that I am an adult (chronologically speaking, not in terms of emotional development), I go to the dentist when I have pain, and that’s it. Prior to this month, my last visit was about seven years ago. I brush, I occasionally floss; leave me alone is how I feel about it. But all streaks must come to an end, and a couple weeks ago I started experiencing regular pain in one area, and I just knew it was time. My co-worker referred me to his dentist, who turned out to be some kind of mastermind, because I just had a cavity filled and experienced absolutely no pain. This is a first. I love this man. I will actually go back there for cleanings every six months. (At least that’s my position right now.) I have emerged from the comfy chair of pain unscathed, and I have a new lease on life!

But my recent visits to the enamel hellhole have drummed up so many thoughts I had to share:

– The thing about the dentist experience is not so much the pain, but the waiting for the pain. It always comes suddenly. When I was eleven and split my chin open (aforementioned car-boy encounter), the E.R. doc said “OK, this is going to hurt” just prior to skewering fresh chin gash with a needle, so I buckled down and took the pain. No prob. I knew it was coming. But this dentistry stuff, well, it’s mysterious. You start out numb, all psyched that this is gonna be lots of fun. The drill starts up, and you feel that pressure—you KNOW he’s plunging a high speed drill bit into your tooth pulp—and yet you feel nothing. You start to relax a bit, and then all of a sudden your tooth feels like it’s generating its own electricity. It’s that nervous anticipation that I hate about going to the dentist. I usually leave the place sweating.
– Today, at least seven times, I was convinced I had swallowed my own tongue.
– The cotton they shove in there, coupled with the spit vacuum’s endless scouring, leaves you with cottonmouth the likes of which you have not experienced since college. Yet when you finally get to rinse half of your head is numb, unresponsive and thus uncontrollable. It’s messy. A new method of oral Hoovering that includes lubrication needs to be developed. (My god, I can’t wait to see the referrer logs after this post.)
– Television (complete with patient-selectable channels and volume levels) as a diversion is useless, for a couple reasons. First off, at 4:00PM all that’s on is Oprah, Judge Judy and Who Wants to be a Millionaire. Second, even if you are so vapid that one of those three pieces of crap might hold your interest, it matters not, because once the Novacaine takes hold, the dentist cranks you horizontal, and moments later your view of the TV screen is obscured by a fountain of spittle, tooth parts, and blood.

That said, I truly felt (almost) nothing today. If you live in New York, and you’re looking for a dentist, I have a referral for ya.

(If you can’t take a joke, hit the back button now, OK?)

Uhm, this was so weird I just had to share. Maybe the guy I’m talking about will read this and score a helpful tip.

Tonight, on the train home from work, a Jewish man boarded the train. This in itself is not unusual. However, this man had jet black hair, and was sporting a black yarmulke as well (again, not unusual). Problem is, his bald spot was about a half inch larger in diameter than his yarmulke. The 1/4” ring of white skin exposed by the undersized yarmulke stood out in bold relief between hair and head cover. It looked like the flare around the moon during a total solar eclipse. For all intents and purposes, I witnessed a cranial eclipse this evening.

Not a comment on religious mores, mind you. Practice whatever you want. Personally I’m an agnostic who began a slow crawl towards atheism following 9/11/01, but I’m all for religious freedoms. But for crying out loud, if you’re gonna practice, do it in a fashionable manner! Do yourself a favor and scale it up one size, bubbie.

This blog thing really has my friends & family confused. Why would I want to place a bunch of personal thoughts and vain rants on the internet for all to see? Dunno. Initially I thought it would be a great way to share funny or strange things I find on the internet with people. But it’s taken on a life of its own. My site is still not completely back online (but is coming very soon) following Seeva.com’s implosion back in January, but some of that content included a story I wrote about 9/11. As an eyewitness to the attacks on the World Trade Center, I had a few things going on in my head that day that I literally had had to get out. Apparently, so did thousands of other folks, as is understandable, but it made it impossible to gey my story published anywhere. So, I turned to the internet. I placed the story on my site, and lo and behold, people—total strangers from all points on the globe—started sending me emails about it. It was cathartic and rather helpful, and made possible by the self-publishing revolution known as blogging.

Thankfully for me, mosty of my blog posts are not a gut-wrenching recounting of a horrible act. Unfortunately for the readers of this blog, that means much of it is barely coherent rants abut NJ Transit and juvenile mutterings about television. But for me, writing is theraputic. Writing in a total vacuum, where one’s thoughts are never seen by others never really had any appeal to me. No, I am too attention-needy for that. So this blog allows me to share these thoughts with three or four other people, and that makes me feel good.

So for now, I will press on with this stuff, looking to improve the site and its content, but primarily having fun.

Oh, and the whole point of this entry was to link to a much better answer to the question “why blog?”, here.

I turned thirty five (35) a few weeks ago. When I made the mistake of projecting a little false bravado at work and exclaimed I was “halfway toward fourty (40)”, my co-worker pal—bless his little young heart—corrected me, and informed me—and all my co-workers—that I was, in fact, halfway toward goddamn seventy (70).

Thank you, Andrew. You bitch.

Emma The Cat writhes nearby; I feel her pain. She’s twelve years old, which in cat years means, well, I have no fucking idea, but it takes her a long time to sit down these days, so I know she’s feelin’ it. God, I love her.

Anyhoo, the point is I’m feelin’ old. I work alongside people who look askance when I say the word “album”. This is the MTV generation, people. Even though I was of the impressionable age when MTV burst on the scene, Nadine MacKenzie didn’t want to have anything to do with me even after I endured some Eurythmics video marathon with her, so I kind of gave up on the whole deal. Clearly, I was a visionary, because TV truly did kill the radio star. But that’s the topic of a whole series of posts that I really don’t have time for right now.

God damn, it’s taking a long time to get to the freaking point this time, isn’t it? OK, here we go:

About a year ago I bought Toast, because it came with stuff to allow one to digitize their vinyl. I immediately found out that to use my PowerBook for this endeavor, I’d need an iMic adapter for sound input. Six months ago I bought one. So for a year, the idea of digitizing my vast collection of albums was just an idea. Well, tonight for some reason I finally got the gumption to trot out the old stereo and turntable and set it all up. That was easy enough; now I needed an album. My 300+ record collection lie in storage in my crawlspace, still bound with twine from the move. So I grabbed the first pile, sliced through the twine, and came up with a gem from the eighth grade:

UFO’s “Strangers in the Night”.

That’s right, I like 70’s metal. UFO was a vehicle for Michael Schenker, who later formed the Michael Schenker Group (whose albums I also own, including a very expensive import live album that nearly broke this author when he was a fourteen (14) year old paperboy).

I’d set the connections, I’d set the levels. Shit, it had been a long time since I listened to this album. But through the speakers, I heard:

“hhhaaaahaaaa(crowd noise)… Hello Chicago! Would you PLEASE welcome, from ENGLAND, YOU, EFF, OH!!!!!!!! hahhhhhhhhh(crowd noise)”

Well, It only took seconds for me to commence with the air guitar and air drums for the intro, which, by the way, were note-for-fucking-note perfect.

Surely, more will come from this, but I am tired. But I have UFO’s live album digitized, baby. Got some air guitar to do. Seeya.

God damned reactionary assholes they are, is what. Read this piece of shit, then read my feeble response, below. Then vow to do nothing but wipe your arse with the not-worthy scraps of shit pressed out by these ass munchers. (Sorry, I have been watching Eddie Izzard lately—and we are planning a UK getaway, so forgive my Ricky Gervais-ian ramblings, right?; Yeah, OK, right, super…)

Dear Ass Munching Wanker (see above; not actually in said letter),

Your recent editorial (”’Terror’ from small planes”) included no easy means of posting a rebuttal. For such an inflammatory piece, you should have included an easy means of postng a counterpoint.

Beginning with the “so-called” title of the piece, and descending into the depths of a sad example of “so-called” editorial writing, I find this highly objectionable piece, well, a piece.

Where is your research? Do you not know that single and multi-engine light aircraft pose little to no threat to citizens? I urge you to review the sad event that transpired in Oklahoma City; the horrifying reality is that awful destruction can be delivered to America’s doorstep by a man in a rented truck loaded with fertilizer. Please show us a similar horrifying event brought about by anyone using general aviation (not ‘so-called’; that’s what it’s called). Mayor Daley broke the law doing what he did in Chicago, and continues to get caught in his own lies regarding this matter and his motives. Are you seriously aligning yourselves with this man?

The restrictions placed on airports in the NYC and Washington D.C. areas after 9/11 and again recently (which, by the way, have been largely repealed) are draconian, knee-jerk, feel-good propaganda moves that do absolutely nothing to increase safety in these areas (one of which I happen to live and work in). It is not dangerous to have general aviation operating in big cities. It is sensible, obvious and economically beneficial.

My god, it’s scary that any retard with a word processor (to be pronounced PRO-cess-oar from now on, right?) can hammer out such drivel. Sure, it’s similar to the drivel I hammer out, but this moron can actually influence public opinion in a city filled with tweed sportcoats and missionary-position conservatives. It’s important, people, to understand that small planes pose no real danger to the public at large. That zit-faced, Accutane-addled kid who offed himself in Florida flew his “dangerous general aviation plane” into a fucking building, and all he did was break a window and stain a carpet. It’s frustrating to see general aviation villified in the press, like some kind of weapons of mass destruction cache – which, by the way, has yet to be found in Eye-rack.

Sorry, my cynicism is at an all time high folks, and fuck-all can be done about that, mates.

Oh goody, I read this article a while ago, and just today I came across a link to it again, while doing some lunchtime surfing. This piece is a pretty funny exploration of business planning, viewed through the Domain Naming System.

What follows is a copy of an email my wife sent out a little while ago; it’s a reply to my reply to an idiotic email “survey” my sister sent me. It’s a classic “he said – she said” type of situation. Much as I hate to admit it, Brenda’s version of my replies is closer to the truth—and more pleasant to read.

P.S. This was a while ago; some facts have changed, like our address. And I don’t own a Dell anymore, and never will again (my dislike for that company that started with some real lemons coupled with awful tech support of same, and solidified with my recent ability to build cheaper computers myself, was crystalized with the advent of the Dude-You’re-Gettin’-a-Dell-Guy).

Anyhoo, without further ado, here we go:

===== copy of email follows =========

OK, so my wife has once again proven why she is the coolest person in the world, and she did it in writing, so I need to forward it to you all. Some of you received an email from me recently, a survey. Well, Brenda has “revised” my answers, and it makes for some entertaining reading. She sent it to my sister, but I thought some of you would get a kick out of her “corrected answers”, so here you go. The question and my answer have a > > before each line:

Dear all,

After pressing Rob about his pervasive negative attitude and the
uncalled-for profanities displayed in his answers, and knowing him

as well as I do, I have corrected his answers as follows:

> >1. LIVING ARRANGEMENT?
> >Brenda, Emma The Cat & I live on the top floor of an apartment

> >building in Hoboken, NJ where Baseball & Frank Sinatra were born

> >and where today you cannot find a fucking parking space in less

> >than 30 fucking minutes unless a fucking honest-to-god miracle

> >happens.

I am blessed and honored to be living with the best wife, Brenda,
and the most adorable cat, Emma, in this known world in Hoboken,

NJ where baseball & Frank Sinatra were born, though our main

past-time is a game called “Find-the-parking-space” which

challenges us both emotionally and physically (manual

transmission) and makes us better drivers.

> >2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
> >Book? Singular? Monotasking went out with MS-DOS. Right now

> >I’m reading “Informed Decisions”, “The Elegant Universe”, “Building

> >Internet Firewalls”, “Infinite Jest” (yeah, trying for the 3rd time to

> >slog through that verbose tome), “Flying Floatplanes”,

> >and about eight different magazines about either computers,

> >general interest, or aviation.

I have two huge stacks of books & magazines next to my bed. My
nightly ritual is to mess up the neat piles my wife has made, pick

one, look at it for about 20 minutes and promptly fall asleep.

> >3. WHAT’S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
> >A stupid Dell logo and holographic pattern that gives my optical

> >mouse fits. You’d think a computer company would know better.

I have an optical mouse my lovely wife gave me for Christmas and
they don’t need mousepads. (You’d think a computer geek would

know better.)

> >4. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE BOARD GAME?
> >I hate board games. All of them. If you put a gun to my head, I’d

> >engage in chess. But if you put Risk in front of me, I’d say “pull

> >the fucking trigger”.

I am too immature to deal with the fact that I may lose, so I refuse
to play them.

[editor’s note: This is, without a doubt, the most accurate assessment of me, ever.]

> >5. FAVORITE MAGAZINE?
> >AOPA Pilot, close second to Sport Aviation. Really, any magazine

> >with glossy photos of airplanes is my favorite if that’s what’s in front

> >of me at the moment.

(This one is true. Thank god. I’d rather have airplane magazines
next to the toilet, than Hustler.)

> >6a. FAVORITE SMELL?
> >Fresh cut grass, especially around an airport, where it mingles with

> >aviation fuel.

My farts.

> >6b. LEAST FAVORITE SMELL?
> >Emma’s litter box, after she lets loose one of her monster hold-it-in-

> >all-day dumps, that she seems to wait for us to come home to

> >unleash.

My farts.

> >7. FAVORITE SOUND?
> >Airplanes. They make lots of sounds, but my favorite is the sound

> >a radial engine makes. You have to be there. It’s loud, throaty, and

> >boisterous. When a plane with a radial engines flies down the

> >Hudson, I know it even if I’m sitting in my living room; it’s so

> >distinctive I usually run to the bedroom window to have a look.

Airplanes and the sound of my wife laughing.

> >8. WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD?
> >The one I get after watching my cat tremble on the vet’s

> >examination table.

and when I don’t clean the bathroom when I’m supposed to.

> >9. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU
> >WAKEUP IN THE MORNING?

> >Do I have to go to work today, and how long can I keep hitting

> >snooze?

I am so lucky to be married to Brenda!!!

> >10. FAVORITE COLOR?
> >black

because it’s what Brenda said on her survey.

> >11. HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOU ANSWER THE PHONE?
> >Usually 2-3, because otherwise the piece of shit answering

> >machine picks up and I can never remember how to stop the

> >greeting after it does.

Usually 2-3, because I have to say “Babe, are you gonna get that?”
first, and if she is indisposed I have to leap for the phone because

otherwise the machine picks up and I can’t remember to press the

“Stop” button to make the greeting stop.

> >12. FUTURE Child’s NAME?
> >Let’s not go there. Even if we do have kids, I don’t want the

> >responsibility of tagging the poor thing with a moniker it has to

> >carry around for the rest of its life. Too much pressure. Fuck that.

> >I’ll name it Bob, Fred, Tom. Something basic. But don’t quote me.

Let’s not go there. Even the pressure of pretending to pick a name
in survey is too much for me, so obviously I am not ready to parent.

(Bob, Fred, Tom?? – for a girl?)

> >13. WHAT IS MOST IMPORTANT IN LIFE?
> >Laughter. That’s easy.

(okay, this is a keeper.)

> >14. FAVORITE FOODS
> >Burritos, Bacon/Egg/Cheese sandwiches, cajun blackened stuff,

> >chili, boneless chicken, bad candy (neccos, skittles, starburst, fruit

> >stripe gum, runts, canada mints).

Basically, I will only eat anything that will make my high cholestrol
level higher – burritos w/bacon, bacon/egg/cheese sandwiches,

cajun fried bacon, fatty beef & bacon chili, boneless chicken w/

bacon, bad bacon candy.

> >15. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA?
> >Vanilla.

Vanilla because I like boring stuff.

> >16. DO YOU LIKE TO DRIVE FAST?
> >Yes, but I like to drive slow too. Whatever pisses off the other guy.

Yes, but only in spurts to drive my wife crazy.

> >17. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL?
> >No. Stupid question.

No, thank you for asking.

> >18. STORMS – COOL OR SCARY?
> >Cool. Ma Nature is very cool, and impressive. And why in the hell

> >do people LIVE in Oklahoma anyway??!!! Too many tornadoes

> >there.

Cool. Mother Nature is very cool and impressive. I can understand
why people live in Oklahoma- to live without fear of crime,

voyeurism, road rage, traffic jughandles, and smog and yet benefit

from the fear and wonder of Mother Nature’s tornados must be cool.

> >19. WHAT TYPE WAS YOUR FIRST CAR?
> >A 1968 VW Kharmann Ghia (with the jewel bezel brake lights), and

> >I should have never sold it. Selling it was the first of many

> >automotive mistakes I’d make over the years, but the beginning of a

> >love affair with Volkswagen cars.

In fact, I made my wife buy a VW.

> >20. IF YOU COULD MEET ONE PERSON DEAD OR ALIVE?
> >That’s not a complete sentence, but I think I understand the

> >question. Hmmm. I kind of like the folks I know. There’s nobody I

> >can think of that I just HAVE to meet. Maybe Da Vinci, or the

> >Wright Brothers (oops that’s two people). Oh wait! Faith Hill. Yes,

> >I want to Meet Faith Hill. But dead, not alive.

That’s not a complete question, but I understand the implication. I
can’t think of anyone who could tell me anything I don’t know, but

maybe DaVinci or the Wright Brothers. I’d also love to know what

Faith Hill sees in Tim McGraw and why she didn’t pick me.

> >21. FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK?
> >Beer. Hoppy and not too cold.

(Can’t improve on that)

> >22. WHAT IS YOUR ZODIAC SIGN?
> >Aires. The best one.

Aries. The stubborn one.

[editor’s note: I have explained to Brenda that Taurus is the stubborn one, and that Aries is the natural-born, confident, leader.]

> >23. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS OF BROCCOLI?
> >No, you can’t get me near that shit; stems, tops, or otherwise.

No, I don’t like broccoli. Please refer to question # 14.

> >24. IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB YOU WANTED WHAT
> >WOULD IT BE?

> >aviation columnist/beer critic/humor-travel writer.

Writer.

> >25. IF YOU COULD DYE YOUR HAIR ANY COLOR?
> >Another incomplete sentence. I think I like my hair color just fine

> >the way it is.

Another incomplete question. I love myself just the way I am.

> >26. EVER BEEN IN LOVE?
> >Yeah. Still am. You?

Yes, because I am married to a woman that amazes me daily with
her intellect and wit. She opens my mind to the positive side of life.

> >27. IS THE GLASS HALF EMPTY OR HALF FULL?
> >Depends on my mood.

Half empty, until Brenda explains why it really is half full.

> >28. FAVORITE MOVIES
> >(in no particular order)

> >Repo Man, Spinal Tap, Midnight Run, Waiting for Guffman, The Big

> >Lebowski, Field of Dreams, Bull Durham, Goodfellas, The

> >Godfather, Mean Streets, Taxi Driver, Breaking Away, South Park

> >the movie, Brazil, After Hours.

(yeah, these are good)

> >29. DO YOU TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEYS?
> >I don’t understand the question, so most likely, no.

I hunt and peck with the best of them.

> >30. WHAT’S UNDER YOUR BED?
> >Shoes and shoe boxes with photographs in them. And a medal

> >from when I got 28th place in a cross country meet. It was a BIG

> >meet.

(I didn’t know about the medal.)

> >31. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER?
> >Favorite number? What the hell kind of question is that?

I like them all.

> >32. FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH?
> >Baseball. Curling is a close second, very entertaining.

Baseball.

> >33. SAY ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT
> >THIS TO YOU?!!

> >Christina is my sister. And I’m proud that she is.

Christina is the best sister in the whole world. She helped raise me
into the responsible, caring person who wrote this. I love you,

Christina!!!

> >34. PERSON YOU SENT THIS TO WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO
> >RESPOND?

> >Dawn, because I think she’d be into this kind of crap.

Dawn, because I think she would want to share her insights with
me.

> >35. PERSON YOU SENT THIS TO WHO IS LEAST LIKELY TO
> >RESPOND?

> >Tim, because I think his email is broken, and besides he’s all

> >hooked up with this new chick who I STILL have not met…

Tim, because he’s experiencing a technical difficulty with his
computer e-mail that he hasn’t had time to fix because he is head

over heels for a young lady I still haven’t had the pleasure to meet.

> >36. DO YOU CONSIDER THE PEOPLE YOU FORWARD THIS TO,
> >PEOPLE YOU MOST RESPECT?

> >Yet another stupid fucking question. Of course I do!

Yes, of course.

So there you have it, the myths of Rob have been shattered.

A friend of mine passed this link along. It’s an interesting expansion of the Left/Right economic ideological continuum, into a third dimension that accounts for social issues.

Go now and take the test, see where you stand. I’ll only share my results with fellow test takers!

I am in the process of writing a real website for my company, and over the last two days have gone through the usual ups and downs of XHTML/CSS formatting, and browser rendering “differences”.

I am a strong believer in the logic and power of CSS, and have been for many years. Now that the time has come for me to make a “formal” website, I have been struggling with the concept of writing code that makes sense, vs. code that safely works on all browsers. I am trying to build a site that makes sense, but at the moment I keep finding specific browsers that barf on various chunks of code, and am getting weary.

After playing around with lots of hacks for IE5Win, I thought I had things in order, but just loaded my site in IE5Mac on OSX and the damned thing’s a mess. Seems that IE5Mac doesn’t like sharing space with floated and non-floated DIVs. Tomorrow’s another day.

Some leads:

• Lead One
• Lead Two
• Lead Three

Some links on the topic in general:
The Treatise on Good CSS

The Master

I am a strange guy, with strange taste. Everyone who knows me knows this is the case. I have odd taste in clothing, music, and entertainment. But perhaps the most vexing of all my peccadilloes is my penchant for crap candy and my attendant dislike of most quality desserts.

I don’t like chocolate, I don’t like cake, and I hate cookies.

I love Skittles, Ju-ju-bees, Starburst fruit chews, Clark Teaberry gum, FruitStripe gum, and Necco Wafers—especially the white ones, the ones that taste like anise. I like anise candy.

This has confounded my wife, friends, family and co-workers for centuries. But today, my boss could stand it no more. Every time a birthday rolls around at my office, we go out for lunch, and the birthday person is greeted back at the office sometime that afternoon with a big chocolate monstrosity with chocolate filling and chocolate icing, served on chocolate plates with chocolate utensils. Chocolate is misted into the air in a subtle coccoa/water blend with a commercial sprayer. Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate. Chocolate. Chocolate.

But every April Fool’s Day, there is no joy in Chocolateville. On my birthday (yes, April Fool’s Day is my birthday and I’ve already heard all the lame jokes), I demand that we go to Duke’s for calamari and blazing hot sauce, and then get back to work already. But as I said, my boss just couldn’t shake that habit of post lunch sweets, and so he set about planning another one of his elaborate schemes. This time he outdid himself. He concocted a sugary monstrosity that I just had to love—and I did.

My co-workers called me over to the lunch table to reveal a candy cake. A candy cake, so help me god. Ringed with jellied fruit slices, it was filled with a mixture of Sour Patch Kids, Skittles, and two brands of jelly beans, in various flavors. It was topped with brilliant red gum drops that bore an uncanny resemblance to a rope of that icing crap most poeple like on their chocolate cakes. The cake presentation tray was topped off with an artful splashing of gummy worms, which this author feels really made the dish. Indeed; the gummy worms were so delightful that this author was already gnawing on one before “Happy Birthday” was completed, and he may have spit a little on the “cake” while blowing out the candles.

My birthday is over, but I am still very much blown away by this presentation, and the thought and effort that went into it. Thanks Richard, and to the gang at RDG.